


Why Can't I?

by Nightlore



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, Parody, Romance, Song Lyrics, Song Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightlore/pseuds/Nightlore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has a secret that he's kept bottled up inside for so long; only music can bring it out from deep within him. His captain is going to find out that life doesn't always work out as planned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Can't I?

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this humor fic came when I was playing Resident Evil 2 and I remembered that a guitar sits next to Chris' desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office, also Liz Phair was playing randomly on my computer. I also didn't have a lot of sleep at the time. You do the math.

Long, masculine fingers meticulously rapped on the computer keyboard; plucking away at the keys to create thousands of tiresome reports and databases. Chris Redfield had been sentenced to such tedious work for the rest of the day as his fieldtime was over for now; all that was left was to fill out the forms that held the details of his recent cases, both closed and on-going. He was already getting bored, despite the fact that he'd only been at this for thirty minutes. Then again, even thinking of report filing was boring to him.

As he was entering the location of one particular run-in with a car thief, his fingers ceased their repetitive motion. He turned his chair around until his eyes could gaze upon the sight of his beloved instrument – his electric Gibson guitar.

Yes, it was not those frustrating letters and numbers his fingers wanted to fiddle with; he fingers longed to play the melodic strings of that wonderful guitar.

However, it wasn't just to hear those sweet tunes. It was because he had a song in his heart; a song that defined and expressed those timeless feelings of love and affection for that special soul that most would call “a crush”.

It wasn't hard to guess just who this individual was.

He turned his chair back to face his desk, but his eyes didn't look at the computer screen as they should have; instead they gazed longingly at the occupant of a desk that sat alone at the forefront of the room – a captivating blonde-haired man with a face full of strong and noble features. It was Albert Wesker, captain of the S.T.A.R.S. unit to which Chris belonged; the man that had stolen his heart ever since that fateful day when that perfect English-accented voice called his name in the very same stiflingly hot office they were now in.

Chris had wanted to confess to Wesker about his feelings for so long, but there was always something that was getting in the way. Worst yet, he didn't quite know how to go about it. Chris knew a subject this sincere and emotional would cause him to choke up; he'd never be able to talk about it outright.

Today seemed different though. At the moment both men were completely alone in that stuffy room, which was a rarity for them. It was almost too perfect; Chris knew he couldn't pass up this opportunity. Today was most certainly the day that he'd say all that needed to be said with that heartfelt song.

Quickly, he grabbed the Gibson from its position against the wall and bravely marched toward Wesker's desk.

As always his captain had his head buried in a stack of papers, not even bothering to look up at Chris as he acknowledged him with, “What is it, Chris?” His tone signaling that he was already slightly agitated.

After summoning the courage to speak, Chris answered him, “Captain Wesker...I'd like to play a song for you.”

Wesker slowly raised his head to give him a rather irate stare, “Don't you have reports that need to be filed?”

The marksman clutched the neck of the instrument tightly, “I uh...I've already finished them.”

Wesker's gray eyes narrowed, “Oh really? I'll expect to see them in the system later then.”

Chris had no response to that, so both men remained in complete silence for a minute.

However, Wesker quickly broke the solemn air with an exasperated sigh, “Fine. Play your little song. I'm sure you're expecting me to tell you afterward that you have an amazing talent and that you should quit this job and move to Hollywood so you be 'discovered' and become a highly recognized musician that every American teenage girl can fawn over as their parents experience intense urges to burn your albums after they've been played a billion times. Heaven knows the radio needs another obnoxious love song so some idiot in the other lane can blast it and force me to listen to it on my way to work every day.”

Nervously Chris laughed, “Ha...not exactly. It's just a song about how I'm feeling.”

He lifted the strap over his head, letting it rest on his shoulder when he was comfortable with it. He took a moment to adjust the tuner to make sure everything was just right.

When he was satisfied with its sound Chris' fingers struck the strings; producing a deliberate melody. It was a nice, feel-good rift that immediately foretold the comings of a song that had the power to sweep nations off their feet. Strangely enough, as Chris continued playing Wesker began hearing drums making a simple, happy-go-lucky beat yet couldn't find out where it was coming from. It was followed by an electric bass and a back up guitar that kept in line with the other instruments; as if a full band were playing right in front of him. Everything sounded as loud and crisp as if it were being performed in a studio.

Immensely confused, Wesker began looking around the room and under his desk but found nothing. Either Chris had a really good soundsystem hooked up somewhere Wesker couldn't see or he really did have an amazing talent...or perhaps Wesker had put his face a little too close to those bags full of cocaine in the Evidence Room.

It was now that a gentle but very manly voice accompanied the instruments...

 

 

_Get a load of me, get a load of you_

_Walkin' down the street, and I hardly know you_

_It's just like we were meant to be_

 

 

Wesker blinked for a moment, “Excuse me?”

Chris' face showed a smile but he kept on singing.

 

 

_Holding hands with you when we're out at night_

_Got a girlfriend, you say it isn't right_

_And I've got someone waiting too_

 

 

Being that the police captain was a little unnerved by the touchy-feelyness he shifted in his seat, “Who is this for again?”

Again Chris played it coy and remained steadfast in his musicality.

 

 

_What if this is just the beginning?_

_We're already wet, and we're gonna go swimming!_

 

 

Wesker slammed his fist on the desk, “What the hell does that even mean?! Who is this 'we'?!”

Yet there would definitely be no response from Chris now; he was now at the uplifting chorus...

 

 

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

_Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?_

_It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it_

_So tell me_

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

 

 

Just as the beat was winding down and returning to its normal relaxing rhythm, fellow S.T.A.R.S. Officer Jill Valentine poked her head through the doorway; her face full of hostility and anguish as she said, “Yeah you know that little line you sang about 'having someone waiting too'? Well I'm fed up with it, Chris! I will wait no more! I spent hours slaving over that microwavable dinner for you and what were you doing? Hiding in the bushes so you could spy on Wesker in his apartment!”

She then pointed her finger at him, giving her rather angst-filled speech more effect as she shouted, “Well let me tell you something...you can have him! I'm quitting this poopy-poop job and getting out of this poopy-poop town... I'm gonna be a Wall Street woman, and I don't mean a successful business woman workin' the stock market – I mean I'm gonna be a $10-dollar prostitute workin' the street! Don't you sissy boys judge me! I'm a real woman! You couldn't handle all this! That's why you're gay for Wesker...or should I say your dear _Whiskers_ as you call him in those unsent love letters I found in your sock drawer! Goodbye, Chris!”

She slammed the door; leaving the two men alone again.

Wesker's eyes were now bulging out of shock; mostly likely from her confessions about Chris' recent activities, maybe even a little from her occupational revelation too. It was probably the first time he'd experienced genuine shock in his otherwise all-knowing and completely anticipated life.

Despite Jill's fearsome rant, it had not interrupted Chris' song. On the contrary, it seemed (by some amazing coincidence) to further enhance the message of the song as the dark-haired singer continued on with,

 

 

_Isn't this the best part of breaking up?_

_Finding someone else you can't get enough of_

_Someone who wants to be with you too_

 

 

Wesker hid his face in his hands, not knowing how to react to that verse; probably because he was still trying to recover from the incident with Jill.

 

 

_It's an itch we know we're gonna scratch_

_Gonna take awhile for this egg to hatch_

_But wouldn't it be beautiful?_

 

 

“Someone needs to scramble that egg about now...”, the blonde man muttered to himself as he continued to sit in his chair.

 

 

_Here we go, we're at the beginning_

_We haven't fucked yet, but my head's spinning!_

 

 

Wesker suddenly stood straight up out of his chair, “And we will continue to keep it that way unless you'd like me to give that idiotic blabbering head of yours a different kind of spin...”

Just as before, Chris would not let anything stop him from singing his gospel of love; arriving again at that wonderful chorus,

 

 

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

_Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?_

_It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it_

_So tell me_

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

 

 

Wesker darted about the room, “How in the deepest of hells do you get this music to stop?”

 

_I'd love for you to make me wonder_

_Where it's goin'_

_I'd love for you to pull me under_

_Something's growin'_

_Outta this that we can't control_

_Baby I'm dyin'_

 

 

Taking a brief second to turn to Chris, the squad leader growled, “Oh don't worry about that, Christopher. You will most certainly be 'dyin'... As soon as I find these elusive instruments that aid you in your song...”

Suddenly all the backing instrumentation ceased, leaving the handsome bard and his guitar to play a soft and calming section,

 

 

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

_Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?_

 

 

Wesker sighed in relief, “Thank god. Now I can-”

His words were cut off by the booming return of the mystical and invisible band; with Chris bringing in that now timeless chorus once again,

 

 

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

_Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?_

_It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it_

_So tell me_

_Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

 

 

Before Wesker could complain or even react, he noticed Chief Irons; who had apparently been standing in the doorway long enough to see the spectacle of Chris serenading Wesker with that eloquent stanza as Officer Redfield swung his hips like a true rockstar lost in his own song. Brian Irons' mouth was agape, it seemed his face had been frozen in that expression ever since he opened the door.

His beady eyes blinked a few times; shouting over the music, “I'll uh...leave you two alone!”

Wesker reached out to him, “Irons! This isn't what it looks like! You have to help me find where this music is coming from and then we can kill him!”

Chief Irons rolled his eyes and stroked his mustache in annoyance, “It's alright, Wesker. You don't have to explain. I mean you uppity English-types are usually...you know... I had my suspicions about you.”

The blonde clenched his fists, “Are you trying to insinuate something about my origins?!”

The Chief of Police ignored the question, “Just as long as you two don't break any of our policies! I don't need the city coming down on me because you wanna show a little favoritism to your Elvis Presley over there!”

Just as Jill had before him, Irons closed the door with a bang.

Wesker shouted after him, “You're not listening to me! This man and I are not involved! We wouldn't be even if I was that way! I would commit suicide before it came to that! He must be stopped so we can continue on with our plans! Dammit! Get back here you little deranged porker!”

Yet again, Wesker was left alone with Chris and his song, at which the tempo and rhythm were beginning to slow down for what seemed to be the millionth time to the S.T.A.R.S. Captain; the bard singing in that relaxing tone,

 

 

_Whenever I think about you..._

 

 

His voice echoed, giving the very last line of the song much resonance and was the perfect ending to such a breathtaking musical composition.

Both men were perfectly motionless now.

Wesker was waiting to see if he would start playing again, however, his silence was misinterpreted by Chris; tears were beginning to roll down the auburn-haired singer.

“What in god's name are you crying for?!”, the S.T.A.R.S. captain yelled.

Wiping the tears away, Chris gave the man a touching smile that was full of warmth, “Because...my song, it reached you... It left you speechless! Your face is flushed! Your body is tense! Your eyes are glowing with understanding! That says it all!”

“My eyes are glowing with burning hate, you halfwit! I am all of those other things because I am full of rage! That is all!”, Wesker growled.

Suddenly, Chris threw the electric guitar to the floor and made a dash for his Captain, “Oh Wesker!”

Before the man could even react, Chris was already pouncing on him; knocking him to the floor with a tight embrace.

Wesker squirmed, shouting, “G-get off of me, you lummox! Didn't you hear a word I said?! I want to murder you! You would be amazed to know what plans I had in store for you before you performed this insanity!”

Chris wasn't paying attention to a word he said, rather he was rambling on with plans of his own, “...and afterward we can move in together~! I know that probably violates some lame policy of ours, but even if I have to quit I'll just stay home and cook you your favorite dinners and rub your feet when you get in from a long day on the job~! It'll all work out just fine! Now all we have to do is get the word from your old man!”

This threw off Wesker completely, forcing him to ask, “...my old man?”

Just then the door burst wide open, two forms rushed into the room on what seemed to be high-powered wheelchairs.

The first to brake in front of them was Ozwell Spencer, one of the Presidents of Umbrella, the other person following him was Chris' younger sister, Claire. They had apparently been racing the super-charged handicapped vehicles out in the hallway. It seemed Spencer was the winner of the race this time, shaking his hands in the air in triumph, “Ha! I've won the gold!”

Claire jokingly shrugged, “You sure did, pops. But don't forget who won every round of Chicken!”

“Ha ha! True, true. You've got a lot of moxie, little lady! I like that!”, he winked.

Wesker interjected their light-hearted conversation with, “Pops?! What is the meaning of this, Spencer?! You're not supposed to be here! This could seriously affect our plans!”

Ozwell's face wrinkled further in confusion, “Plans? Oh you mean those plans!”

“Yes 'those plans'!”, Wesker retorted.

The old man took a moment to ponder, “Uh well...I don't see how this is going to affect the plan. If anything this is what lead to it... Oh right! Wesker, you have my blessing!”

“Your blessing? What the hell do I need your blessing for?!”, he screamed.

No one said anything for a moment, only giving the fair skinned man a secretive smile. Chris' face was red with embarrassment as he quietly spoke, “I haven't told him yet...”

Spencer slammed his hand on the armrest of the wheelchair, “D'oh! Now I've gone and done it! I've spoiled the surprise!”

Wesker bit his lip, “Will someone tell me what is going on...?”

Bursting with joy, Claire jumped out of her chair, “You're getting gay hitched to my big bro!”

At that very moment a mental car crash took place inside Wesker's head, “WHAT?!”

Chris took Wesker's hand in his own, “I know it's sudden, but a love like ours has already blossomed into something beautiful. I don't need any more time to see that. Albert Wesker...will you marry me?”

The S.T.A.R.S. leader stomped his feet in anguish, “NO! NO! NO! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU AND THAT'S FINAL!”

The room was silent, they were all stunned by the man's almost childish display; Spencer shook his head in disapproval, “Oh Whiskers... He always was the diva of the children. You should have seen the little whipper-snapper he was back then! Oh he'd storm about the mansion in little high heels and a red sequined dress, bossin' everyone around; always stirrin' up some kind of drama!”

Wesker's pride was clearly hurt, “The other Wesker children told me that's what men with power wore! They were jealous of my obvious superiority!”

“No one told you you needed to wear that horrible lipstick...”, Spencer scoffed.

The blonde brushed a loose strand of hair back, “I was trying to complete the ruse by doing that! You know I'm a perfectionist...”, suddenly he broke out into sobs, “Oh why doesn't anyone understand how hard it is to find the right shade at that age?!”

He coughed a moment, quickly regaining his composure.

Ozwell sighed, “Either way you should be happy that this nice young man cares about you enough to put up with your shenanigans, Whiskers!”

“Stop calling me that!”, Wesker shouted.

The Umbrella mastermind shook his finger at him, “You kids think when you hit your late thirties you have the right to tell other people what to do! Well listen here, boy! I gave you your name and I can call you what I want! I'm making up for the time I didn't get to spend with you...”

“What has happened to you, Spencer? Why are you acting this way? What about our real plans? The one where I betray you right when Birkin creates the perfect virus to usher in a new age for mankind and thus I take over everything because it is rightfully mine?”, the blonde asked.

Ozwell groaned as he sneered at the notion with disgust, “Oh that old plan! You know Whiskers I didn't realize it at the time but these two kind souls showed me the way to enlightenment and now I know just how foolish that whole plan was.”

“Wait...Chris and his sibling...showed you to 'enlightenment'?”, Wesker asked in disbelief.

Claire and Chris were beaming with pride as Spencer mentioned them.

The old man nodded, “Yes. All those years of plotting nefarious deeds and kooky conspiracies were stemming from one problem that I'd ignored for years... I never realized just how much something so seemingly insignificant could affect so much! It wasn't until your little honeybunch and his sister here arrived at my doorstep with the solution... Oh sure I was cynical about it at first, but this young man was so intent on me trying it out that I had to! Once I sat down in this baby...it changed _everything_! Just like the informational DVD said it would!”

He lovingly patted the fine-looking wheelchair as he finished his sentence.

Wesker closed his eyes, as if trying to contemplate hard on what the senior was saying, “Now let me put things in perspective here... You're saying that all of your motivation for a stronger species and a better world was just a side effect of a bad back problem caused by a cheap wheelchair...and that this blundering lovesick fool here changed all that by simply giving you a better one? Am I right?”

Lord Spencer corrected him, “Well not just any wheelchair, Whiskers! It's a Hoveround!”

Upon saying the famous brandname, both Claire and Spencer began clapping their hands in unison as they chanted the merry jiggle, “Now I can go-go-go in my Hoveround! Indoors! Outdoors! All over town!”

“That...is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard on both accounts!!! Honestly I don't know whether it's more important for me to enact my plan and save the world because of the simple-minded logic behind that story or the fact that someone got money for creating something so stupid and aggravating!”, the S.T.A.R.S. captain spat.

Ozwell shifted in the chair, “Well just you wait! You're no spring chicken, my boy! Soon there’ll come a day when you’ll be confined to a wheelchair and you’ll see how it feels when you don’t have top quality! I hope you get a real piece of shit out of spite!”

Wesker began rubbing his temples, “Oh whatever, you wrinkled and senile bastard! Anyway what the hell does that have to do with my hand in…marriage to this ape?”

Spencer shrugged, “Well I thought it’d be perfectly obvious to you, Mr. Grumpers! Young Redfield over there was so desperate to make everything just right for you that he even went through the trouble of getting me to like him so I’d give you both my blessing. After all, I’m practically your father!”

“And every bit of that time I spent working towards our dream of matrimony was worth it to me!”, Chris exclaimed.

Lord Spencer gave him a smile and continued on, “There you see, Whiskers? Someone out there thinks you’re worth the trouble! You should forget about that silly old plan of yours and move on with our new one.”

“What ‘new one’…?”, he questioned, not sure if he really wanted an answer.

“Well…perhaps this will explain a little bit…”, Spencer replied.

A neigh from outside the door announced the presence of a horse; the beast of burden making its entrance directly afterward as it exploded into the room like so many of the other interlopers before it. It was pure white, and strangely enough, there was a horn proudly protruding from its forehead. When its large frame finished getting through the doorway, a small blonde-haired girl could be seen riding atop its back in a small sailor suit. It was Sherry Birkin; followed by her mother and father, Annette and William.

Overly excited, the girl happily shouted, “Look, Claire! It’s what I’ve always wanted! A real life unicorn~!!!!”

Claire blinked, “But Sherry…I thought what you really wanted was for your parents to spend more time with you…”

Sherry tossed her hair, “Pft, you mean Dr. Jekyll and Frankenstein’s Wife over there? Um yeah…if we were going continue down that ‘old plan’ road… My mom would be an obsessed and disillusioned crackwhore running around in underground laboratories and sewers like Hobo Barbie… And my dad would be The Incredible Hulk after a bad acid trip chasing me all over the place until he’d be able to impregnate me with a gross larva thingy... Yeah you heard me! _Impregnate_ me! That’s like Jerry Springer for extraterrestrials, ‘kay?”

She squeezed her prized animal, “But once daddy takes me to Hollywood for my audition next week and I get my first role as an actress…all will be forgiven… I’ll be the next Dakota Fanning, maybe even better than Dakota, yeah definitely better… And I’ll show up to all the big premiers on the red carpet and everyone will adore me!”

Annette gripped her husband’s arm, “Remember Bill, the first time she stumbles drunk out of a nightclub with a lesbian DJ is the moment we cut off her inheritance.”

The scientist shook his head in silent agreement.

It was once again it was Wesker’s turn to belligerently spout off a question, “A unicorn?! Will…did you engineer this?”

Birkin answered him in that matter-of-fact tone, “Uh…yeah, Wesker. We’ve actually created fairies, hobbits, mermaids, and we’re beta testing real life Keebler elves as we speak.”

The blonde squad leader began rubbing his temples even harder, “Fairies… Unicorns… Keebler elves… Does anyone else think this is a bit unrealistic?”

William shrugged, “I don’t mean to be rude but…why does having the capability to create a couple horses with horns and midgets with pointy ears who bake cookies seem like more of a stretch than skinless frog people, super-sized sharks, deformed weight-lifters with elastic arms, goofy bat-centipede hybrids, and plant blobs as big as aircraft carriers?”

Wesker began rubbing his chin as he pondered the question.

Lord Spencer cut into the conversation, “What ‘ole Billy here is trying to say is that Umbrella has moved on from all that evil cloak-and-dagger business. The times have changed, Whiskers, and you’ve got to change with them.”

The S.T.A.R.S. captain huffed, “That’s quite alright, old man. You can have your pixies and trolls and gingerbread men and all that other hokum. All I need is my virus samples and I shall be on my way…”

William Birkin nervously scratched the back of his head in hesitation, “Uh yeah…Wesker…about that…”

Wesker’s eyes were like arrows as they found their mark on the man, “What’s happened? Spit it out!”

“Well you see to make room for all the new stuff we kinda had to throw out the old… I mean there wasn’t enough space in that laboratory for everything. So we destroyed all the viral samples and all bio-weapon data that we collected over the years. Every facility has been converted over to our new standards…”, the scientist explained.

If Wesker’s initial internal reaction to the news of Chris’ intentions to get married were like that of a car crash, then this was like the destruction of Raccoon City when everything went according to the ‘old plan’ and it was wiped off the earth by a nuke.

He said nothing for a long time, standing as stiff as a board as his upper lip twitched continuously. When words could escape those clenched white teeth they were, “…are you trying to say that…all those long hours of staring into microscopes, jotting down notes, organizing computer files, planning covert operations, building facilities…all those years of our lives dedicated to the singular idea of the ultimate lifeform…has now…just been…washed down the proverbial drain…so that people could frolic in picturesque fields with horned equines and carnies with hairy feet…?”

Doctor Birkin’s lower lip angled out as he nodded, looking more like a cheap plumber than a knowledgeable microbiologist, “Yes. I suppose that’s about the size of it.”

In a fit of rage, Wesker grabbed him by the lapels of his lab coat, “You suppose?! That's all you can say?! You have turned into a complete jackass since I left you in the lab a few days ago! Do you not comprehend all that you have done?! All my plans are ruined now! I was going to have every one of you maggots suffer horrible deaths as i ascended to my rightful place as a god of a new world! But no! Oh no! That can’t be done now because of you fools! You’ve destroyed it all!!!”

He fell to his knees in defeat, “What an insufferable fate this is! It is all lost! I have nothing now!”

Chris walked over to the tormented soul and began patting him on the back, “It's alright, Wesker. We've all had plans that didn't work out the way we wanted them to. What matters is that we make the most of it by learning from the experience and move on. In fact, you're probably going through the first phase of your mid-life crisis. Don't you worry a bit, my blonde bombshell, I'll be with you every step of the way from here on out~!”

Wesker shoved chris' hands away, he snapped, “Don't touch me! I don't need your foolish Hallmark greeting card sentiments! All of you are out of your minds! This must be a part of a conspiracy against me! I know something is going on, and I intend to find out just what that something is! Once I do, I swear I shall slaughter you all! Especially you, Chris! As I'm sure you're the root of all my misfortune and sorrow!”

Tears welled up inside the young S.T.A.R.S. member's eyes, “I...I never wanted to be...a root! But I definitely don't want to be a root that causes you misfortune and sorrow!”, the tears started rolling down his cheeks, “I'm sorry, Wesker! All I wanted to do was love you! To be that special someone who melts the ice off of your frozen beautiful heart! To be that special someone who you can trust all your darkest secrets to! To be that special someone who makes you fish 'n' chips when you come home!”

The blonde shook his fist, “Will you stop with the-”, he relaxed it, “What about fish 'n' chips...?”

With tears still streaming down, Chris replied, “I wanted to win your heart over with my special fish 'n' chips recipe made with my secret spices and seasonings! It's a Redfield family secret! After all I know how you Englishmen are about your fish 'n' chips! But...I can't do that now because...I'M A ROOT! A ROOT OF MISFORTUNE AND SORROW!”

“Stop that whimpering! I shall try your so called 'special' fish 'n' chips! Just to see how 'special' they are! Fish 'n' chips is something that should never be turned down no matter how desperate the situation may be!”, Wesker stated.

Wiping his eyes, Chris nodded, “Here...I made some while you were giving us one of those psychotic rants... Oh you take my breath away when you do that!”

He handed Wesker a small plate of the deep-fried fish and slab-cut potatoes, which somehow seemed as if it had just been made.

Wesker gave him an odd look, “How did you-”, then sighed, “Oh nevermind!”

Thereafter he popped a piece of fish in his mouth; a look of intense surprise appeared over his face. He then shoved a fry in with it. As his tasted buds sparked with delight, he went into a frenzy upon the little dish.

“My god it's delicious! It's the most perfect thing I've ever tasted upon this worthless planet!”, the blonde mumbled with his mouth full.

Hope glimmered like a tiny beacon in Chris' blue eyes, “You really like it?!”

Devouring the last little morsel of fish, Wesker looked at him with complete seriousness, “Chris, if I marry your gorilla-like existence will you make fish 'n' chips for me every night at 7:30 sharp?”

“Yes! Yes! I'll do whatever you want!”, Chris answered excitedly.

The blonde wiped the crumbs from his face with the back of his hand, “Very well then. I accept your hand in marriage. Yes, it may be the complete opposite of my original plans, but do it I must. And yes I may have to be stuck in this depressing little smudge on this earth, and yes I may have to put up with your disgustingly romantic ways...but it shall all be worth it now. Oh and uh...I have...one more condition...”

Chris took Wesker's hand in his own, “What is it, my honeybunches-of-oats?”

Wesker cleared his throat, “Ahem...I want it to be perfectly clear that I'm the...how can I put this...I'm 'the man' in the relationship. However, I uh...want to wear a dress on our wedding day b-b-but that's only because I'm man enough to wear one so don't get any ideas! And it must be a Vera Wang! I will not settle for anything less! Your future husband deserves top quality! Is this understood?”

Chris gave him a loving smile, “I wouldn't want you to my darling! I'll give you whatever your heart desires!”

He leaned in to kiss his captain on the cheek, causing Wesker to draw back slightly, but instantly swooned as soon as those lips touched him.

Nervously he proclaimed, “R-r-right. I believe everything is in order now that you've accepted my conditions. I suppose the idea of you being my fiancée will grow on me in about five minutes...”

The S.T.A.R.S. office was ablaze with joy; everyone shouting in celebration at Wesker's words.

Chris laughed as he embraced him, “Oh Wesker!”

A month later, a beautiful wedding took place near the fountains of Raccoon Park. All of the people that were closest to them were there. Claire stood beside Chris as his Best Woman; smiling at him the whole time as she was so proud of her brother that he had finally come to know the grandeur of love. Lord Spencer walked...er...rolled alongside Wesker down the isle, who was stunning the crowd with his shimmering white dress custom-made by Ms. Wang herself (Wesker had worked hard to shed those few pesky extra pounds). Jill, who had changed her mind about her career choice as a 'Wall Street Woman', oversaw the proceedings as an ordained minister of the Church of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. The highlight of the night (and the highlight of young Redfield's life) was when Chris and Wesker exchanged their vows and experienced that timeless magical kiss under the cool evening skies of August.

And so the world came to know true harmony as it was full of unicorns, fairies, actual flying fish, Wallie robots, parrots that could sing just like Aretha Franklin, oh and even those goofy-ass monsters from Where the Wild Things Are. Yes everyone was truly alive and happy because there was no longer any silly T, G, or even UVB, UVA, XYZ viruses.

Well...all except for Leon Kennedy – he suffered a rather nasty death after he'd convinced Ada Wong to drop a large anvil on him as he had hopes of becoming the next Looney Tunes character; he was tired of being only seen as the Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike of RE and wanted to show off his more comical side. Unfortunately the results were obviously a bit messy.

...BUT OTHER THAN THAT, everyone lived (as they say in all unrealistic fairytales) happily ever after.

 


End file.
